


W is for Washington D. C.

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Around the World in 26 Days [23]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, bit of Hustle and NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which, even after a near-disaster, an elderly Illya is still determined to stick to his mission, in spite of Napoleon’s advice to do otherwise.





	W is for Washington D. C.

**Author's Note:**

> I firmly subscribe to the headcanons of “Albert Stroller is an older Napoleon” (started by Robert himself) and “Ducky is an older Illya” (started by others in the fandom); this piece takes place some time after the events of the Hustle episode “The Con is Off” and the NCIS episode “Til Death Do Us Part.”

Napoleon placed the last of the boxes inside, sighing as the task was done.

“Napoleon… You must rest…” he heard Illya say.

“Not as much as _you_ need to rest,” Napoleon countered. He gently picked up Baba Yaga and placed her on Illya’s lap as he sat on the sofa, hoping that purring would promote Illya’s healing.

Neither one of them were bothered with trying to figure out how a cat could live to 52 years of age—not when Illya had only just escaped a brush with death himself. Napoleon had just been finishing up his deep cover mission in London when he had heard that Illya had suffered a heart attack.

With the mission over anyway, Napoleon immediately dropped everything, said goodbye to his grifting team, and headed back Stateside, first to Florida, where the unfortunate event had taken place, and then to DC—where Illya had been stationed for his deep-cover mission, which he was currently taking medical leave from.

Napoleon had moved back into Illya’s place, determined never to leave his side again. Illya had gone through several near misses in the eight years that Napoleon’s deep-cover mission had gone on for—and though Napoleon spent as much time as possible in DC with him, it didn’t help to shake the feeling that he should have been there with him. And with this happening now, well… Napoleon wouldn’t leave ever again. It would mean an end to his fieldwork, but with him and Illya in their golden years, there were more important things that mattered. He had given so much of himself in the battle against THRUSH in the 60s—and then again in the 80s when U.N.C.L.E. practically begged them to come out of retirement. Their deep-cover missions began in the 90s and had continued to today. Napoleon never thought he’d see the day that he would refuse to do fieldwork, but he and Illya were old now—and they had to spend whatever time they could together.

“Anyway, that’s the last of my things,” Napoleon said, sitting on the sofa beside Illya. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“But you’re here now,” Illya said. “How long has Blanche given you until your next mission?” He was referring to Waverly’s granddaughter, now the current Number 1 of Section I.

“I’m not doing fieldwork anymore, Illya. I’m staying with you.”

“Oh, Napoleon, really--”

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Napoleon asked. “I mean, you’re going to put in your resignation now after this, aren’t you?”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you’re not going back to being undercover as a medical examiner, right? You’ll end the mission, retire from that, and we can go back to our little bungalow in Hawaii. The Pacific breeze will do wonders for your health.”

“…The breeze off of the Potomac will have to suffice, Napoleon.”

“… _What_ ,” Napoleon responded, flatly.

“I do not consider my mission complete yet. And these people still need my help,” Illya said. “As soon as my health returns, I hope to go back to my role as medical examiner.”

“Illya, are you crazy!?” Napoleon asked. “After what just happened!?”

“They are recovering from this, too,” Illya said, softly.

Napoleon exhaled, facepalming.

“I am grateful that you went out of your way to spend time with me,” Illya added. “And once I am well enough, I fully understand if you wish to return to your Merry Men in London—or whatever mission Blanche has next for you.”

Napoleon just shook his head.

“No,” he said. “This whole thing has put a lot of things into perspective—including what’s most important. I gave a lot to keep the world safe—years and years, with injuries and illnesses, not to mention several pints of blood over the last five decades. Now I’m at an age where I’m just not as efficient as I used to be—and at an age where I know I have to look out for what’s important to me.”

“Then…”

“I’m staying here until your mission ends—whether they decide to let you go for medical reasons, or whether you end up staying until your role here is done,” Napoleon promised. “And then… Then we’ll return to our bungalow in Hawaii.”

Illya blinked for a moment, but nodded.

“I like that idea very much. Thank you, Napoleon,” he said. “For being here… and for understanding why I can’t leave just yet.”

Baba Yaga murowred in agreement, prompting the two of them to glance at the cat with an amused expression.

“…Are we the only ones in the world with a 52-year-old cat?” Napoleon wondered aloud.

“So it would seem…” Illya said. “We must have been taking excellent care of her over the years.”

“…Or she really _is_ the daughter of Bastet all along, just like I told you all those years ago…”

They continued to banter, quietly.

It felt good to do that again.


End file.
